


Bone-Collector (Same Game Today As It Always Is)

by tsohg



Category: Bandom, Twenty One Pilots
Genre: Anorexia, Body Image, Eating Disorders, Gen, Tyler-centric, no happy ending
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-27
Updated: 2016-06-27
Packaged: 2018-07-18 15:58:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 507
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7321513
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tsohg/pseuds/tsohg
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's not that Tyler can't eat.</p><p>It's really not.</p><p>It's more like he doesn't want to, doesn't need to, hasn't needed to for a long time.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Bone-Collector (Same Game Today As It Always Is)

Tyler knows a lot about bones.

He knows carpals from metacarpals from phalanges, which make up the bones of his wrists and which comprise the palms to the first knuckles and what you'd find beneath the flesh of his fingers.

He could tell you that the radius runs down the thumb-side of the forearm. The ulna stretches down to the little finger.

Tyler _likes_ bones.

He likes seeing them form angles and valleys along his body. Tyler likes skeletons. There is nothing wrong with that.

There is nothing wrong.

The hip bones - the innominate bones - they're a part of the pelvic girdle, and likely Tyler's favorite part of the human skeleton.

For him, they jut out sharply, like ridges or mountains or razor blades. They used to hold his clothes taut, his jeans and sweatpants, so that nothing ever touched his stomach. Then everything got too loose, a size too big and hanging from his frame, and he couldn't really find it in himself to miss it.

-

It's not that Tyler can't eat.

It's really not.

It's more like he doesn't want to, doesn't need to, hasn't needed to for a long time.

And people start to notice, of course, they notice and they try to buy him things he used to eat or share a meal with him or offer him a bite of that but Tyler is so _past_ that, he really is. He's not _avoiding_ food, he has a headache. He's nauseous. He already ate, he's tired, and oh my god leave him alone.

And then Josh, well-intended Josh just doesn't get it, he doesn't understand, says _if you're sick we can take some time off, cancel some shows_ and _when's the last time you ate, Tyler?_ and _if there's something wrong you can tell me_ and Tyler wants to scream because nothing has ever been wrong with him.

Nothing is wrong with him.

There is nothing wrong.

-

Tyler really does get headaches. He gets them a lot.

His hands are cold enough that when he has to touch someone, they recoil.

But Tyler doesn't really mind, because he can count each of his ribs (fixed and floating and false alike), and he can feel the knobs of each of his vertebrae (he can differentiate between cervical and thoracic and lumbar).

He can't complain.

-

Josh orders food while Tyler pretends to be asleep in his bunk.

He shoves a styrofoam container at Tyler, tells him to eat. Tells him it's something he'd like.

And Tyler stares at Josh sharply after he feigns waking up, and he says, "No."

"What?"

"I'm not going to eat."

Josh looks distraught, more than anything, and says, "Tyler."

He asks, "When's the last time you ate anything at all?"

Something in Tyler _snaps;_ he doesn't want to be asked this. He's fine. It's none of Josh's business. It doesn't matter.

Tyler has to bite his tongue to keep himself from yelling.

And he answers, "Why do you even care?"

-

Nothing is wrong with him.

Nothing has ever been wrong.


End file.
